Solitary Suicide
by yamiskoi
Summary: Finally Bakura knows what he has done... and to repay his hikari, he commits suicide. Why he does it, how. Does Ryou save him in time...? (Heavy angst)


Yami's koi: this will be my second suicide fic now. This was, originally, going to be an idea I've had since I was about nine. But I figured that idea would be kinda slow to start... and no one particularly appreciates a slow beginning. Even if the author admits it willingly. So... if people take offence at suicide, then leave now.

Bakura: will this be about Ryou, too?

Yami's koi: I know who it will be now... More at the end... --

The rain pours, the sunlight dimmed, trapped by the thick, swirling clouds above. Such weather imitates my own emotions at this time.

I wander up the stairs in my house, favourite blade in hand, once again contemplating making that one last phone call. Only to dismiss that thought as being pure folly.

I feel so... numb inside. I find it a struggle to find appropriate words that would fit... this isn't grief, but more of a despondent depression. And it wells now in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down.

But for no longer.

I have finally arrived at my destination. The door slowly creaks open to the bathroom, and I walk in. This room... the one in which I have hurt in so many times... and I don't just mean myself. No, I have committed and offence too harsh to even begin to convey... something that I shall never forgive myself for.

Now it would seem suitable to state the current roots of how I have arrived at this stage today.

The foundation of my incurable existence began once more when I emerged from inside my Millennium Item. Free yet again; free from being locked inside the cold, endless abyss of shadow that had threatened to tear me apart so many times. When I had first laid eyes upon my hikari... I did not dream of meaning anything to him. A callous, grim stranger from centuries past; Nothing more than a notch in his belt.

If only things could have been as I had perceived. He talked to me, comforted me... and I repaid him by violence. Rarely it was that he ever struck me back, or yelled out, but yesterday... when he managed a single blow on my chest, a feeble attempt to fend me off, I snapped. My blows ceased, and I at last absorbed what a terrible crime I was doing. He stared at me, whimpering – I leaned closer to clean his wounds... but he cowered and I broke. With one whispered word, I fled.

And now I'm back. But not for too long. I have drawn my favourite blade for a reason... in Ancient Egypt; I used this mostly to slay the most fearsome of enemies. It served me well... and it is by this knife in which I will die. The fate in which I had brought to so many before me... has finally come.

Almost automatically my wrist rises, already been softened once today. This will make the blade easier to slide in and pierce my skin.

The coldness of the steel against my wrist only seems to spur me onwards. I press harshly down onto my pale skin, and, with a slowness almost unbearable, I drag the blade along. It begins to bite – a dull, tingling sensation at first – until I build up the pace slightly, craving more of that sting. As the blade completes its first slash, a tiny shimmer of blood appears.

At this sight I am only encouraged more, satisfied, and I eagerly press harder as I make my next move along the same stinging cut. It travels along the expanse of my wrist, and the blood wells more so before trickling down the flatness of my knife. My eyes narrow, my body desiring more and more of that life-giving liquid to fall.

Then I hear myself laugh, feel the compulsory smirk reach my lips. I toss my head back, quickening the pace of my blade. My dreams of blood, and the end I deserve, shall be attained faster this way. The pain, once given the right amount of pressure and speed, can be decreased a lot.

Though, having said that, when I feel the steel strike my veins, a sharp pain explodes in my open wrist. I pause for one moment; the knife locked in position, as I take time to recollect my strength. I grit my teeth, using my familiar mind over matter method to block out a small amount of this ache. My hand that grasps the end of my life slowly begins to move once more, and I feel the dagger ease through a vein. I hear the telltale dripping of blood reach the tiles below me.

With one vein opened, I feel content enough to leave that wound. I transfer the knife to my bleeding hand... and begin to repeat the process.

Strangely enough, this next slash is more painful than the last, and much more difficult to make. I presume that this is because of my loss of blood... Not that it bothers me, of course. With added pressure now in every stroke of the blade, I feel the burdened knots in my stomach slowly untie themselves, almost as if this is the only source of comfort I can get. The only way I can escape, the only way I may feel at peace once more.

Again, the increasing pain startles me when I strike some nerves. Without any hesitation this time, however, I unleash my hopes into the death-bringing object when it cuts.

All I need now... want now... is my death. I want that fate that has been so many before me to be my own, NOW! I want those shadowy lands to devour me, want the Gods and whoever else of power to scorn me, condemn me to the life I invite. The only death, which I truly deserve, is this one.

There is only one last thing I must do; I muse, as I withdraw the knife from my wrist. Using the blood that has already fallen, I dip one finger in it and begin to write a message on the tiled floor. It reads: 'I've gone forever. I never meant for it to come this far...'

So much for a heart felt message, I say to myself.

I have no fear left within me to be afraid, no regret to make me feel guilty... just happiness. And the knowledge that I have finally done something right for my hikari, something he will appreciate. Slowly I sink down to my knees, my knees too weak to keep me up, the cold substance sinking into my clothes.

The nauseous smell of blood now is almost like toxic in my veins. I do not even struggle with my body's natural reactions as I puke, heaving up both bile, and blood. With this vile matter out of me, I begin to laugh.

And with laughter comes more blood, choking its way from my mouth. A sharp pain erupts in the left side of my ribcage, and my eyes widen in surprise. I realise that my breathing has begun to slow now, becoming more and more laboured with every moment of heartache.

Yes, I feel heartache, every moment when I remain on this gloomy earth. All I will yield to now is to the approaching chariot of death, bearing the Lord of Dead with its weight. In replacement to my sorrow, I feel ice; a sharp, definite stab of coldness rising in my stomach.

I know that I won't live for much longer, and that suits me perfectly. For I know that I will not have to bear the memories of my hikari's beatings... will never have to let him know how sorry I am.

Hai, I have considered how he would cope. Yet I always came to the conclusion that this was right. I have been wrong to abuse my light, the other half of my soul. And for such an insult, death is the only punishment I will take.

The tingles in my wrists are beginning to recede now, but the shooting pain in my chest will do nothing of the sort. In this instant I panic, finding my breathing harder to control. I choke on this struggled breath, which brings up more and more blood. My head rests on the red, sticky floor now; grimacing at the effect my hair has taken to it.

With this almost asthmatic reaction I feel a strong twinge of fear well inside of me. Gradually I slow my breathing, coming more in gasps now, and find myself unable to banish this fear.

What will become of me in this new life? Will it truly be the one I invite so willingly? I am almost afraid at the possible answers.

My lungs are viciously beginning to throb now, and again I find myself battling for air.

But this time I cannot quell my panic. I clutch at my sides, scorning myself for my cowardice, my justice which shall be served in the residence of Hell. My heart is throbbing so quickly against my chest that its pain has numbed... and it is then that I realise... its pace is starting to slow.

And now I find myself able to breathe. A small, crystalline tear travels down my cheek, and I shudder. I've grown so cold...

"OH MY GOD!"

My head would have jerked to the exact position where the scream had come from, had I the energy. But I would recognise that shrill, horrified yell from anywhere.

I only just manage to tilt my head to the side when he comes to kneel beside me. Words fail him. Instead he takes my face into his hands and gazes down into my eyes, his tears dampening my cheeks. My eyes begin to flutter to a close as I hear the upcoming arrival of death.

"I have... finally done... what I should... have... done long ago..." I manage, my words laboured and husky.

I feel the fingers on my face tremble. "Bakura... I n-never... wanted you to do this."

I open my eyes one last time and stare up into the eyes of the most beautiful angel ever to grace the ground of earth. His golden brown eyes show much – desperation, fear, surprise, longing... It is now that I finally decide something.

"I know," I whisper, closing my eyes again. His sobs become louder now. Before I can make out Anubis' face clearly, I hear his broken voice speak once more... for one last time...

"Please... I love you..."

The shock of his last statement draws Anubis closer. I open my mouth to answer, but instead I draw one last, shallow breath...

And the ironic things about my tale? Two major things enter my mind at this. Firstly there is the fact that he loves me. After all of the times I have abused him, betrayed his trust and loyalty, and made him a vent for all of my anger... he finds it in my heart to love me.

And the second thing?

I love him too.

Owari

Yami's koi: reviews will be greatly appreciated. I'm really unsure if I like this, but the descriptions were better than the last. I'm pretty sure you all guessed very early on who the POV it was in, and the dude who did suicide...

Bakura: mouth still open er... why me?

Yami's koi: haven't got a clue, dear Bakura. Do you dudes think I've gotten better at writing angst? I dunno... Hikari Suicide was meant to be a one-shot... I don't even know why I started to write it! I'd just been cut with glass... but that's all I can remember!

Bakura: what she means to say is that she had a plot idea. And she wanted your opinion on it.

Yami's koi: please review me with your ideas. I'd be very grateful. Plushie of Pharaoh Yami to reviewers... Luvvies... o


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